Sympathy For The Devil
by Misha
Summary: They called him Spike...


Sympathy For the Devil   
By Michelle 

Disclaimer- I do not own the characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. They belong to 20th Century Fox, Joss Whedon, and Mutant Enemy. I am using them without permission, however I am not making any money off them so please do not sue me. "Sympathy for the Devil" belongs to The Rolling Stones and I'm not making money off that either, so please don't sue me.   
Author's Notes- Okay, this is kind of weird and was created when a friend and I were discussing whether or not you could write a song fic out of "Sympathy for the Devil". Obviously, I proved that it is possible and that this is the result. This is also a Spike fic, Ôcause the song fit him. That's all for now, enjoy.   
Feedback- Please! Send feedback but no flames.   
Distribution- Buffy's Passion, Daydreams of BtVS, and anyone else who has any of my stories archived at their site has permission, everyone else just ask me first. I'll almost always say yes.   
Rating- PG-13   
Classification- Spike, mild Spike/Buffy, Spike/Dru, angst, song fic, dark.   
Spoilers- A little bit of everything, but there's no chip. 

_Please allow me to introduce myself   
I'm a man of wealth and taste   
I've been around for a long, long year   
Stole many a man's soul and faith_

His name was Spike. 

Once, long ago, it had been William. Back then he had been a gentle soul, a bumbling young man with a tender heart and no talent what-so-ever for writing poetry. 

That changed with the touch of a woman named Drusilla, she turned the young would-be-poet into her consort, into a creature of the night. 

From that night he became in league with the devil, brutality and madness were his friends. He enjoyed wrecking havoc and causing misery. He enjoyed seeing people suffer. 

_And I was 'round when Jesus Christ   
Had his moment of doubt and pain   
Made damn sure that Pilate   
Washed his hands and sealed his fate_

If he was the devil's advocate, then it's fitting that his nemesis was an Angel. He was an outcast, a demon who had been touched with goodness, and for that he would be forever alone. 

His love for the slayer, the one girl in all the world with the power to destroy his kind, just made him more alone, for the two lovers could never be together, though their was love was strong. 

It was that love that lit the fire of Spike's hatred, for they both loved her. But hatred is stronger than love, and it was his hatred of the man who had stolen the heart of every woman Spike loved, that caused him to watch with glee as his nemesis was destroyed. 

_Pleased to meet you   
Hope you guess my name   
But what's puzzling you   
Is the nature of my game_

That act cost him dearly. Once she learnt of her lover's death, the girl committed suicide and was lost to Spike forever. 

Her death took whatever humanity he had with her. From the moment of her death, he became cold and cruel, the pain he had caused before was nothing compared to the terror he now inspired with his every movement. 

Bitterness welled inside of him and he was determined to make humanity pay for her death. His goal was to cause as much pain in the world as losing her had caused in his heart. 

_I stuck around St. Petersburg   
When I saw it was a time for a change   
Killed the Czar and his ministers   
Anastasia screamed in vain_

He was there for many historical events that took place both before and after _her_ death. 

He got pleasure from disaster and felt joy when humanity suffered. His name caused fear in the hearts of everyone who heard it, in time it was linked with the devil itself. 

Her death made him more powerful than he had ever been before, it gave him a new purpose. For with every scream his victims gave, he saw her face as she learnt of her lover's death, and his hatred grew. 

_I rode a tank   
Held a general's rank   
When the Blitzkrieg raged   
And the bodies stank_

Death soon became his only pleasure. It was the one thing that gave him joy. The smell of death exhilarated him and the dead bodies piling up around him only reminded him of why he had begun this brutal cause. 

_She_ was gone and there was nothing that he could change it, but he could make others pay for it. 

So, he watched with delight as the light went out of his victims eyes and death claimed yet more victims. 

_Pleased to meet you   
Hope you guess my name, oh yeah   
What's puzzling you   
Is the nature of my game, oh yeah_

It was hard to believe that he hadn't always been the brutal monster he had become with her death, but it's true. 

In the days before he met _her_ and before his life with touched by _her_ beauty and destroyed by _her_ death, his game was entirely different. 

Spike lived for the hunt, for that last Ôdance' before he swooped down and claimed his kill. But there was more to life than death, there were mortal pleasures... Drinking, gambling, women... 

One in particular, Drusilla, his Drusilla... She gave him eternal life and he planned on spending it with her. 

But it was not to be. Drusilla had been gifted with Sight and she knew before he when his heart was stolen by the slayer and she had rejected her lover for that reason and had his life forever. 

But, before that day they had spent many years at each other's side, enjoying the pleasures of their kind. 

_I watched with glee   
While your kings and queens   
Fought for ten decades   
For the Gods they made_

Death had always held a fascination for him, even before the beautiful golden human girl who had stolen his heart took her own life and he began to take it out on humanity. 

He stood and watched as monarchs died and wars were fought. He loved to watch as mortals took their last breaths before being claimed by Death. 

He loved to watch the horror in their eyes and their valiant, but vain, attempts to prevent it. He found it completely stimulating. 

_I shouted out   
"Who killed the Kennedys?"   
When after all   
It was you and me_

Drusilla was his constant companion in those days, always at his side. 

Together they ruled the night, taking pleasure in the pain they caused. They delighted in it. 

They watched as they tore families and lives apart and they rejoiced in it. 

_Let me please introduce myself   
I'm a man of wealth and taste   
And I laid traps for troubadours   
Who get killed before they reached Bombay_

Even in his un-dead state, Spike enjoyed the finer things in life. 

He saw no reason why he should be denied them, so he and his Dru lived a good life. 

Cash was never low, for their were always rich victims to kill and rob. He never thought twice about taking from his victims, but then he had no conscience, so why would he worry? 

_Pleased to meet you   
Hope you guessed my name, oh yeah   
But what's puzzling you   
Is the nature of my game, oh yeah, get down, baby_

During the days before his nemesis' reformation, he had made killing an art form. He was careful about his victims, making sure as not to get caught, but each kill was an art form. 

For Spike, it was sport instead of art. He enjoyed the chase, the brutality of the kill, the knowledge that no one could beat him. He took pleasure in every moment of the dance. 

For him it was a source of pleasure. A thrill. It was like a game to him. A game he never lost. 

_Pleased to meet you   
Hope you guessed my name, oh yeah   
But what's confusing you   
Is just the nature of my game_

After _her _ death, it was no longer the same for him. The thrill and the sport that the kill had once held for him had died along with _her_. 

Now, death was his fascination, his punishment to the world for daring to go on, when _she_ was dead. 

His game had changed, and now it was much more deadly, for he was much more serious. He wanted everyone to suffer for his pain. And he wouldn't stop until he had succeeded. 

_Just as every cop is a criminal   
And all the sinners Saints   
As heads is tails   
Just call me Lucifer   
'Cause I'm in need of some restraint_

Everyone, good or evil, is a mass of contradictions, and Spike was no exception. 

His crimes were directed out of hatred, yet there was a piece of him that had loved _her_ and that still contained some good. 

He showed no mercy and took great pleasure in watching people suffer, yet he still cried when he thought of _her_. 

He was evil, yet there was a piece of him that had once done good. 

Any of the good in him, any piece of him untouched by the path that that consumed him, belong to _her_. 

_So if you meet me   
Have some courtesy   
Have some sympathy, and some taste   
Use all your well-learned politeness   
Or I'll lay your soul to waste, um yeah_

Now, you've heard his tale. You've heard of the evil he's done and of the reasoning behind his destructive goal. 

No one is ever truly evil as this tale would have told you, not even those in league with the devil. And even they deserve some sympathy, for all madness has a method to it. 

All criminals have a reason for their crimes. 

The End


End file.
